"Yeah. Comes with the job."
He turns his head to look at me. His hair is sticking up on one side and there's a pillow crease across his cheek. "What job?"
I pour myself coffee from the pot I set before I went to bed last night, take a sip and set the cup down on the counter. "Lookin' out for things."
He thinks about that. "Like the ranch?"
"Yeah, like the ranch."
He nods slowly, like he's thinking about it.
"Like your mama. Like you."
His face changes. "Okay."
He goes back to scratching the dog.
I stand at the counter with my coffee in my hand and I don't drink it for a while.
The coffee is half cold when she comes into the kitchen.
Hadley in my t-shirt and a pair of leggings, her hair messy, her face still soft from sleep. She sees the scene—me at the counter, Nash on the rug, Diesel eating—and she stops in the doorway. No words. Just a long look.
I pour her a cup and set it on the counter beside mine without asking. She crosses the kitchen barefoot and picks up the coffee. Her hand brushes mine and stays there.
She leans her shoulder against my arm and we both stand at the counter with our coffees and listen to Nash explain to Diesel that bull riders have to be at least eighteen, but he's going to start training as soon as Spur lets him.
Her shoulder is warm against my bicep. She smells like sleep and like the shirt she stole off my chair.
I bend my head and press my mouth against the top of her hair and stay there. "Mornin', baby."
"Mornin'."
That's all we say for a while.
She takes a sip of her coffee and picks up my hand off the counter and threads her fingers through mine and rests our hands on the wood between us.
Diesel finishes his food and walks back to his spot on the rug and lowers himself down with the long slow groan of an old dog at the end of his morning circuit.
Nash watches him settle. "Mama. Diesel walks like a grandpa."
Hadley laughs against my shoulder. "That's because he is a grandpa, baby."
"Oh." He thinks about it. "Rogue. Is Diesel old?"
"He's old, partner."
"How old?"
"Older than you. Younger than your mama."
Hadley's shoulder shakes against my arm. "Watch yourself, Rogue."
"Yes, ma'am."
Nash, on the rug. "Mama. You're not old."
"Thank you, baby."
